


Bastards, Beer, and Bad Decisions

by randomostrichchocolates, Styx_in_the_mud



Series: Chance Encounters [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is a drunk puppy, Alistair is the big brother type, Anders and Tabris were bros, Angst, Carver makes good decisions, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fenris must be protected at all costs, Fluff, Gen, Hawke is a Sarcastic Asshole Mage, Humor, Isabella has her own way of helping, Merrill is a precious cinnamon roll, Multiple Wardens, Team mom Aveline, and he has a lot of thinking to do, because he's acting like a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomostrichchocolates/pseuds/randomostrichchocolates, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styx_in_the_mud/pseuds/Styx_in_the_mud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tabris makes the decision to spare Loghain, Alistair finds himself drunk in Kirkwall</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Story Teller Meets a Royal Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> So we found out that if you spare Loghain, Alistair leaves the party and possibly finds himself in the Hanged Man. And then this happened. So anyway, chapter one: in which Varric meets our beer-soaked puppy.  
> -Styx

The Hanged Man wasn’t exactly the nicest of pubs. The ale was watery, the food was disgusting, and the décor was limited to the random bloodstains that adorned the floor. Alistair didn’t mind though, not when the bartender was happy to keep plying him with drinks… so long as he had the coin of course. And Alistair had a lot of coin.

He hadn’t intended to end up in Kirkwall. He hadn’t intended on ending up anywhere, really. All he knew when he ran was that he had to get away from her and her betrayal. He had been so _hurt_ then, but now, now he just felt numb. Though that might just be due to the fact that there was probably more alcohol than blood currently running through his veins. He had gotten to the dangerous stage of drunkenness that had him questioning all his life choices. What if he hadn’t left Ferelden? What if he had agreed to be king? What if she had killed Loghain? What if he’d never fallen in love with her in the first place? The line of questioning made his head hurt, and he groaned and fell face first onto the table in front of him.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, friend.” Said a voice from somewhere to his left “You really don’t want to know what happens on these tables.”

Alistair turned his head to side and squinted in the direction of the voice.  He found himself face to smirking face with a dwarf.

“Y’re a dwarf.” He said, blinking owlishly.

“Kind of you to notice, stranger.” said the dwarf, smirk widening. Alistair groaned again. He knew dwarves. Or well, he knew two dwarves. Aeducan was a noble though, so she didn’t count, and Oghren wasn’t exactly a prime example of his race. Or maybe he was. Dwarves were tricky. Alistair was starting to suspect that he was drunker than he thought.  He tried to concentrate on the dwarf again, who was now sitting on the chair next to his.

“The name’s Varric, you might have heard of me.” Then he looked Alistair up and down and said “Then again, maybe not. But that’s not really important. What is, is that I’ve not heard of _you_ , and I’ve heard of everyone worth hearing about.”

“M’be ‘m not worth hearing about.” slurred Alistair.

The dwarf chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. Call it a hunch. I’ve seen you around, you know. You haven’t moved from this table in a week. You look like a guy with a story to tell, and hey, I’m a sucker for a good story.” He waved over a passing waitress. “Another round of drinks over here. Put it on my tab.” The waitress nodded, and soon returned with a tankard for each of them.  Varric looked at Alistair expectantly over his mug. Alistair sighed; it probably wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. He was paying for his booze anyhow.

“My name’s Alistair, and I’m here because I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Alistair found himself spilling the entire story, starting from his time with Arl Eamon in Redcliffe as a boy, and found a captive audience in the dwarf, who was looking at him with greater incredulity as time passed as he ordered one round of drinks after another. When he got to the duel with Loghain, Varric let out a low whistle.

“You’re telling me that you’re the bastard son of one of Fereldan’s kings, _and_ a Grey Warden that somehow survived the Battle of Ostagar thanks to a shapeshifting witch and her daughter.”

Alistair nodded, and stopped abruptly when the action made the spinning room spin faster.

“You fought werewolves and abominations, helped crown Orzammar’s king, and found the legendary, and I’m really emphasizing the word _legendary_ , urn of Andraste’s ashes?”

“Yup.”

“All while at the side of the Heroes of Fereldan, one of whom, apparently, you were screwing when you found the time.”

Alistair blushed, and made a sound of agreement.

“Andraste’s ass, pull the other one!”

“You don’t believe me?” Alistair asked sadly

“All I’m saying is that it’s one hell of a story, and, believe me, I would know. But never mind that, what happened when your lady love faced Loghain?”

A dark look came over his face as he snarled. “She betrayed me- us. She spared that traitor’s life, after everything he did, after all the destruction he caused. She just let him join the wardens. So I left. I wandered around Fereldan for a bit, but I had to get away. So I came here.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on a minute, puppy.”

“Puppy?”

“Yeah, you’re a puppy if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I am _not_ a puppy.”

“Clearly you’re not one for introspection. But that’s not the point. You’re saying you just left the girl you love to face a blighted archdemon on her own just because she wouldn’t let you kill a man?”

Alistair frowned. That didn't sound like it did in his head. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Of all the-”

Varric was interrupted by a shady looking man covered in tattoos who tapped him on the shoulder and said something too low for Alistair to hear.

“Blast it! I’ll have to talk to you later, pup, there’s… an urgent matter I need to attend to. I’ll see you around.”

He left Alistair alone at the table confused, conflicted, and, for the first time in a long time, thinking seriously about what he had done that day at the landsmeet.

“She wasn’t alone.” he mumbled to himself. It didn’t make him feel any better.

He didn’t see Varric again for about a week or so, though, granted he never left the Hanged Man. The dwarf walked up to him out of the blue one day, sat down, and said “so, you’re a Royal Bastard, huh?”

Alistair groaned “I’ve heard that one before, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I’m just warming up.” Said Varric with a grin, ordering a drink for himself. “I did some checking up on you by the way, your highness.”

“Please, _please_ don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you wish, pup.”

“That doesn’t mean- oh forget it.”

“Anyway, I got in touch with some of my Fereldan contacts. Apparently your story checks out.”

“Good to know, I’d hate to be caught lying to myself.”

Varric snorted “That sounds like a personal problem.” He took a long drink and gave Alistair a look. “Tell me, pup, is the inability to make good choices a requirement for Grey Wardens?”

“It’s not a requirement, but it _is_ encouraged.” he quipped “Why?”

“I just met one who’s a wanted man with… an overdeveloped sense of justice who outright refuses to lie low.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the incident in chantry, would it?”

“What incident in the chantry?”

Alistair snorted into his drink “Of course.” He turned to grin at the dwarf, who chuckled.

“You know, you’d get along like a house on fire with a friend of mine.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, she was in charge of the non-existent incident at the chantry….and I was supposed to meet her at the wounded coast fifteen minutes ago. Crap. I’ll see you later, pup.”

Alistair watched as the dwarf shouldered the crossbow he seemed to carry everywhere and hurried out the door. He shook his head and returned to his drink.

“You’re in for an interesting time.” Said the barkeeper with a grin.

“What?”

“Varric’s given you a nickname. That basically makes you his, and with the group of people he hangs around…” the man shrugged “Like I said, you’re in for an interesting time.”

Alistair raised his mug to his lips to hide the small smile blooming on his face. Maybe he would cut down on the drinking, he had a feeling there would be other distractions coming his way soon enough.


	2. An Ex-templar, a Dwarf, and an Apostate Walk into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric decides Alistair might just be the perfect guy to help them on a certain job that him and Hawke are doing and decides introductions are in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I still don't understand how this fic snowballed from the two of us just typing headcanons at each other really fast.

From what the barkeeper had told Alistair, he had assumed that Varric was some kind of team leader of a weird mix and match of characters, like a more sarcastic version of what Aeducan was to their group in Ferelden. That was until he met Marian Hawke.

Alistair had seen her the moment she stepped into the bar, his templar instincts flaring a little bit, even if dulled by the alcohol in his system. He whipped his head towards the door to see the apostate, not even trying to disguise herself as evidenced by the towering staff strapped to her back. Behind her, he saw Varric who grinned and moved towards the bar, the apostate following behind.

"'Lo, pup, want to hear a joke?"

Alistair merely raised a single eyebrow at him, sneaking a small glance at the tall woman with the short dark hair next to him.

Varric continued, taking the silence as affirmation. "So, an ex-templar, a dwarf, and an apostate walk into a bar -"

He was cut off by the girl next to him groaning. "Really, Varric," she said sarcastically. "Why not just publish the _secret that could get me killed_ in the local paper?"

Varric rolled his eyes. "Hawke, you and I both know that you never even attempt to hide your abilities, if your brother's bitching is anything to go by."

"He _does_ get loud and huffy about that." Hawke mused.

"Now," Varric said, clapping his hand onto Alistair's arm. "This is the man I was telling you about, Hawke. Pup, this is my partner."

"Alistair," he corrected the dwarf, holding out a hand for the woman to shake.

"Varric's keeper," Hawke replied and Alistair snorted.

"Seems like he'd need it."

"Oh, he does."

"If we're all done with the snarky comments," Varric said loudly. "I'd like to move on up to my room."

"But Varric, I just met the man. Surely, we should get to know each other before moving to the bedroom." Alistair flushed as Varric laughed. He could see that Hawke's eyes were twinkling with mirth. Nevertheless, they moved towards the back of the bar, Varric using a single arm to drag Alistair, the dwarf surprisingly a lot stronger than he looked.

Varric's rooms were one of the largest the Hanged Man had to offer, and though the bar for the pub's cleanliness was set quite low, his rooms were also devoid of blood and mysterious sticky substances. "Nice place," Alistair remarked.

"Oh, he's just redecorated recently." Hawke drawled.

"What do you want?" Alistair decided to ask, cutting to the point directly, the other two giving him a considering look.

Finally, Hawke asked "Did you really travel with the Heroes of Ferelden?"

Alistair winced a bit, not needing another reminder of the woman he was trying to forget. "Yes," he bit out, not willing to contribute anything else.

"I already told you that, Hawke." Varric said.

"I'm just checking your information, Varric." Hawke's voice was ever so slightly patronizing.

"He's exactly what we need for this job." Varric triumphantly declared.

Hawke hummed. "Well, I suppose the templar abilities would be very beneficial, even if my magic would be affected too."

"You know, you don't actually have to be the centre of attention whenever we fight someone." Varric laughed.

"Well, yes, but that happens naturally. And how else would I get my adoring fans?"

"Hold up," Alistair interrupted the conversation as Varric opened his mouth to deliver a ready retort. "What is this job and why on earth have you assumed I'll just agree?"

"The job is helping us deal with a few apostates that went a bit crazy and thought blood magic would actually be a good idea." Varric raised an eyebrow at him. "And you'll agree because after hearing that crazy story you told me, I know one thing for sure."

"And what's that?" Alistair asked.

"That you're like Hawke here." Alistair gave him a questioning look. "Fighting the good fight and protecting the innocent is what you do."

Alistair sighed.

"Look on the bright side, Al," Hawke said and Alistair decided not to comment on the nickname. It was better than pup, after all. "If you're with us and you manage to get yourself killed, Varric will make sure your name lives on as a blaze of glory instead the drunk, bastard of a King who ran away from home."

Alistair scowled. "Calling someone a drunk coward is not the best way to convince them."

"I don't need to convince you." Hawke smiled and walked towards the door with Varric trailing behind. "Be ready tomorrow night."

As they left, Alistair wondered what it was about him that attracted women leaders who did not take no for an answer. And then he thought that it might be time to polish the untouched armour hidden under his bed.

***

"I'm just saying, Hawke," Alistair said as they trekked towards the alienage. "It makes no sense to do this at night, where I can't see anything and there's random fanatics attacking at every turn."

"And I'm saying, Alistair," Hawke said. "The apostate we're trying to capture is not really going to welcome us into his home and make us tea. We have to sneak in. At night. Under the cover of darkness. Cowl of the night. And all that rot."

"Nicely put." Varric drawled.

"Shut up, Varric." Alistair and Hawke said together. Varric held up his hands, defensively.

There was a beat of silence before Alistair spoke up again. "The random fanatics are really a damper on the whole situation though. We have to fight so many hordes of people just to get to the alienage, where this apostate elf is probably going to summon demons and kill us anyway."

"It's nice to see enthusiasm in the team." Varric said.

Hawke hushed them both, holding her hand up as they passed Gamlen's house and entered the last entrance way before the alienage. There was a large thump from behind them and Hawke whipped around, her hand moving towards her staff, but Alistair had already moved forward, pushing the shadow behind them against the wall, his sword at the man's neck.

"Ow!" The man cried. "Sis, can you please call off your guard dog?"

Alistair said "Sis?" at the same time Varric said "Little Hawke?"

"Carver?" Hawke asked, her voice growling a bit. "What in the Maker's name are you doing?" She nodded at Alistair, who reluctantly stepped away from the armoured man. "Were you following me?"

Carver frowned. "I was not following you." Hawke just gave him a silent look. "Maker, fine, I was following you." he scowled.

"Why?"

"Because, you were being odd!" Carver said and Hawke gave him an incredulous look. "You wouldn't tell me what you were doing or with who or anything."

"Aw," Hawke mocked. "Was little Carver feeling left out?"

"Shut up!" he glared. "Sorry for trying to make sure you didn't get yourself killed. Mother would never forgive me." he gave Alistair a calculating look. "And who's this?"

Alistair looked at Carver before turning to Hawke. "You have a brother?"

Hawke didn't answer him. "He's someone who's helping us with a job." she said instead.

"And you didn't think to bring your own brother instead of some random drunk?" Carver asked.

"Given the fact that the random drunk used to be a templar, yeah, I think I'd rather bring him."

"A templar?!" Carver's head whipped to look at Alistair and then back at Hawke. "Sis, are you actually insane?" Carver pushed a finger into Alistair's chest threateningly. "You, listen to me -"

"Carver, shut up." Hawke groaned. "Ex-templar, in case you didn't hear. And I can take care of myself. Now stop being barking at me and leave. Or come with us, if you're really that worried." And with that Hawke marched off towards the alienage.

Varric looked at Alistair and Carver, where Carver was still glaring. "Come on, Junior. Your sister really likes setting fire to things on a normal day and you just made her angry. Don't dawdle. You too, pup." He sauntered in the direction Hawke had went.

Carver gave one last threatening look, before they both turned to follow the dwarf.

As they reached the alienage and the magnificently large tree that stood in the middle of it, Hawke held a hand up for them to halt and gestured towards a shadowy door in the far corner. "Over there," she mouthed.

She held back a bit and let Carver and Alistair move in front to lead the party. Varric opened the door, and they eased their way in, making sure not to make too much noise.

"He lives in an abandoned warehouse?" Alistair whispered, looking at the surroundings incredulously.

"More importantly, how are there so many abandoned warehouses in this city?" Varric asked. "And why are they the number one criminal spot? The questions that plague me on the daily."

"Maybe the atmosphere helps criminals with their brooding?" Hawke suggested.

Carver shushed them and the group moved in towards the centre of the building. They had just exited the room when someone behind them cleared their throat.

"You're trespassing," the mage said.

***

Alistair groaned. "Pride demons. I hate pride demons. He couldn't have just summoned some shades, no, he had to go with a bloody pride demon!" He wiped some of the green gunk off of his hand. "This is disgusting."

On his right, Carver was also looking vaguely ill about the pride demon body fluids that had sprayed on them when Varric shot the killing arrow. Hawke, of course, had miraculously remained spotless. She pushed her fringe back with a hand and let out a short laugh.

"You're both such children, it's nothing a good bath won't fix." she said.

"Says the woman who had the convenience of being far away from that thing and just shooting it with fireballs." Carver said with an annoyed eyebrow twitch.

"Pleasures of ranged fighting," Varric laughed.

Hawke gave Alistair a hard thump on the back. "Thanks for taking out that mage by the way. That weird blue smoke light thing was pretty helpful even if it did make me unable to cast spells for a while."

"Eh, all in a day's work for a not-quite-templar." Alistair rubbed sheepishly at his neck.

Hawke smiled at him, before turning away. Varric turned to follow her but not before calling out over his shoulder "You both have green goo in your hair, by the way."

Carver and Alistair both let out frustrated groans.

"I need a drink," Alistair declared.

"As do I," Carver replied, giving him a look that said I-don't-trust-you-yet-but-you-seem-alright-for-now. Alistair shrugged.

Kirkwall wasn't that bad, Alistair thought to himself, moving to follow Hawke and Varric out of the warehouse.


	3. Aveline Valen- Team Mom and General Concerned Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline's just looking out for her friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what productivity feels like.... It's interesting.

After meeting the Hawkes and Varric, Alistair found himself feeling a little lighter, almost happy. The events of the landsmeet still preyed heavily on his mind, but with a combination of alcohol, Varric’s stories, Hawke’s humor, and Carver’s grudging comradery he found that he could ignore the feeling of  “wrong, wrong, wrong” that sat clumsily in his gut. He could still be found most commonly in the pub, though he looked a lot less despondent these days.

Hawke made it a point to drag him on a quest once in a while. He didn’t go too often. It brought back memories he’d rather not dwell on. Memories of trudging through some Maker-forsaken woods searching for somebody’s missing family member, of Sylvia’s- no, Tabris’, he had to think of her as Tabris- sly smile as he and Morrigan bickered, of Aeducan and Leliana sitting close by the campfire, of Wynne scolding them all even as she healed them, memories so fond that they physically hurt. He probably couldn’t go back even if he wanted to, they probably wouldn’t want him back. He sighed. This was why he didn’t take too many jobs. It always brought him back to thoughts of his friends, of Tabris. He signaled the bartender for another drink, and took a long gulp.

“So. You’re the Templar.”

Alistair choked on his drink, spilling half the tankard down his front. A woman had taken the seat next to him without him realizing. Her shoulder-length red hair was held back with a headband and she wore the uniform of the city guard.

“Ex-templar” he managed to gasp out between coughs, still dripping ale.

She fixed him with a searching stare, and he had an inexplicable urge to duck his head, shuffle his feet, and confess everything he’d done wrong in his life. Dear Maker, she was like a younger, ginger version of Wynne! It took all his self-control to meet her look head on.

“You know,” she said suddenly “I used to be married to a Templar.”

“Oh, I- erm… that’s- well… okay?”

“Mmm. Died as we were leaving Fereldan. Darkspawn.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“He was a good man. Are you a good man, Alistair?”

“I- wait, how do you know my name?”

She smiled “We have a few mutual friends. Namely Hawke.”

“Oh.” Well that made sense.

“I’m Aveline, Hawke and I ended up leaving Fereldan together. She’s… a trouble magnet.”

“You know, I _never_ would have guessed.”

“You’re a funny one Alistair, I can see why she and Varric like you so much.”

“Thank you, I think.”

Aveline laughed “Hawke certainly has a way of picking her friends. First she throws herself in with another, more well-known apostate, then the escaped slave and the whore… and now a templar.”

“Ex-templar,” Alistair corrected automatically. She just gave him a look and he flushed.

“All I’m saying is this: I like Hawke. she’s been a good friend to me, and I’m one of the many people watching her back. If she ends up in trouble because of something you said or did, you had better choose a direction and start running. Do I make myself clear?”

Alistair paled considerably “Oh yes, absolutely. Clear as glass! I swear!”

Aveline smiled at him “It was nice meeting you, Alistair.” she said and clasped his shoulder as she left. It took all of his will power not to jump. When he was sure she was gone, he drained his entire glass in one go. Oh, Maker, what had he gotten himself into this time?

**

“Do you spend all your time in the bar?”

Alistair jumped. “What in the- Oh, hello, Aveline.”

The guard took the seat next to him and looked at him expectantly. He sighed.

“Not all my time. Sometimes Hawke asks for my help on a quest or two. And there’s always Diamondback with Varric. Though I never do seem to win any of those games…”

Aveline snorted “That” she said decisively “is because the dwarf cheats worse than a Darktown merchant.”

Alistair was rather annoyed he hadn’t figured that out for himself. Aveline brought him out of those thoughts by clearing her throat.

“You should do more. This isn’t the most pleasant environment to stay in.”

Alistair shrugged “I don’t mind it too much.”

Aveline muttered something under her breath and left.

**

“Sorry about that fire ball, I was aiming for the mercenary behind you.” Hawke apologized.

Alistair just raised one singed eye-brow in her direction. She grinned sheepishly, and he snorted. At least she apologized. Morrigan used to send fireballs at him on purpose. The memory made his chest ache dully, and he longed for a drink. He knew things were bad when he missed _Morrigan_ of all people. He shook himself out of these depressing thoughts in time to catch the injury kit that Hawke threw at him.

“So what now?” he asked, applying the kit to his various wounds.

“Now we go and report back to my friend, get our coin, and then you can go back to sulking over your ale.”

“I don’t _sulk_. I might brood, but I don’t sulk.”

“Oh please, I have seen brooding up close. You, my friend, sulk.”

“I do not!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” She called over the shoulder as she led the way out of the docks.

He laughed and followed her all the way to the Viscount’s keep, where he found a familiar red-head waiting for them.

“Hawke, Alistair.” she greeted

Hawke looked between the two of them “I take it you’ve met?”

“In a manner of speaking” said Alistair, nodding at the guard. Hawke seemed to accept this answer, and turned to face her friend.

“Alright, Aveline, that’s your mercenary problem taken care of.” said Hawke

“Thank you Hawke,” she said, handing over a small pouch of coins “I would have handled it myself, but it’s ‘not my jurisdiction’.” she finished bitterly.

“I see the captain still refuses to listen to reason.”

Aveline made an irritated noise, and Hawke gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’d best be off, too many authority figures in one place. It makes my skin itch.” She said, handing Alistair his half of the reward before striding out. Alistair watched her retreating figure, strongly reminded of another woman who was both very similar and very different from this strange apostate. He shook his head. Now was not the time.

“It’s nice to see you out and about.” said Aveline, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I was running out of booze money.” He replied.

She gave him a look so disapproving that he had to fight the urge to hide behind his shield.

**

“Have you ever considered taking up a hobby?”

Alistair sighed and turned in his seat to face Aveline, who was, of course, right behind him “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Needlework, bear wrestling, antagonizing Carver, anything really.”

“My needlework is passable at best, Bears aren’t exactly common in these parts, and I antagonize Carver simply by existing, I really don’t need to put any extra effort into it.”

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

**

“What about floral arrangements?”

Alistair shoved his sword through a corrupted spider’s abdomen, and wheeled around in time to bring his shield in the way of the poisonous spit a second creature had hurled at him.  “Aveline, this is really not the time!”

"I know! You could a run a craft shop in Lowtown!" Aveline replied instead, effortlessly jumping in front of him to kill another spider.

"I wouldn't have anything to sell. And don't you think we might just a _little bit busy right now for this conversation_?!" he ducked to avoid one of Hawke's giant ice crystals and narrowly avoided a sharp pincer.

"I'm multi-tasking." Aveline stated, punctuating the sentence with a sharp, killing blow to the last venomous spider. There was a beat where Alistair stared at her with a ridiculous expression, before Aveline said "You could sell beaded necklaces. I know how to make them, I could teach you!"

Alistair groaned and marched away from her.

**

Somewhere between the random visits at the Hanged Man and the occasional quest he accompanied Hawke on, he’d began to feel comfortable around Aveline. So much so that he found himself sobbing on her shoulder one night at the pub after he caught a whiff of elfroot and pine, a smell he’d come to associate almost exclusively with Sylvia. He was very drunk at the time, or at least that’s what he told himself. He refused to talk about it the next day, and thankfully Aveline didn’t pry. He did find himself given a lot of odd jobs in the shadier parts of town, taking care of bandits, smugglers and the like. He pretend that he didn’t want an excuse to stab things and she pretended that she wasn’t giving him one. If the others suspected there was something wrong, no one said a word. Not even Varric.

**

“You’ve been coming on more jobs with us.” said Aveline one day as she, Hawke, Alistair and Varric sliced (or shot and burned in Varric and Hawke’s case) their way through the Bone Pit.

“Maybe I’ve run out of money again.” He said striking a dragonling with the pommel of his sword. He always felt bad when they had to kill dragonlings. They were quite cute when they weren’t trying to take your head off.  He ducked a bolt of lightning from Hawke’s staff and chanced a glance at Aveline, who arched an eyebrow at him.

“Or maybe it just feels good to fight the good fight again.”

“Yeah! There’s the pup I’ve heard so much about!” shouted Varric from somewhere to his right. Alistair rolled his eyes, that dwarf’s hearing could give an elf a run for its money.

Aveline smiled “You know, the city guard is always looking for new recruits.”

“Aveline, are you offering me a job?”

“I did say you needed a hobby.”

“I’ll… need to think about it.” he said, following Hawke’s instruction to “Clear the area!”, mere seconds before she called up a fiery inferno to burn the remaining dragonlings, and then there was no more time for chit chat.

**

He decided against joining the guard in the end. The organization was a bit too close to the Templars for his liking. Still, he found himself joining Hawke and the others on various quests around Kirkwall, and in time the memories hurt less. He still found himself in the bar, not to drown his sorrows but to celebrate a job well done. And if the scene brought to mind other celebrations in another country during another conflict, he learned to ignore it, reminding himself that he was sitting between a scowling Carver and mischievous Hawke, and not a handsy Zevran and grinning Tabris.

It was during one such occasion that Aveline caught his eye from across the table.

“Good job” she mouthed at him.

Somehow he got the feeling she wasn’t referring to way he’d bashed that one abomination over the head, spectacular though it was, so he grinned, and raised his glass towards her. He hadn’t forgotten what he had in Ferelden, what he’d lost in Ferelden, and he didn’t want to, but it was nice knowing that even in Kirkwall there was someone watching his back.


	4. Isabela is an Actual Human Being with Emotions and Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair should not be as surprised as he is to meet Isabela again. He'd always known the pirate traveled all over the world. It would probably be easier to face her if they hadn't had sex, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly love Isabela with all my heart (I romanced her in my playthrough for Gods sake) but geez is she hard to write. - R

In retrospect, it was a bit strange how long it took him to meet Isabela again, considering they both spent quite a bit of time in the Hanged Man and the fact that she knew him. Which is exactly what he dumbly stated when he heard her say "Alistair!" in surprise during their "introduction". 

"You know me? That's all you have to say about our intimate relationship?" she punctuated the sentence with a sultry wink.

"What's this, then?" Varric asked, his ears almost physically perking up with the itch of a new story. "You two know each other?"

"I think by now it shouldn't surprise who Isabela knows." Hawke remarked. "She gets around."

"She definitely does that," Aveline said and Hawke gave her an appraising look. 

"I had the pleasure of getting to know Alistair here back in Ferelden. Denerim, to be exact." Isabela's voice dropped an octave. "It was a dark, humid night, and I had a few 'special skills' that Alistair and his beautiful companion needed me to teach them. We decided getting to know each other a little more...  closely might be the way to help everyone involved." 

"Oh?" Alistair steadfastly ignored the waggling eyebrows Varric sent his way.

Isabela gave him a curious look. "Where is lovely Sylvia, though? You two seemed quite inseparable the last time." Alistair fought the urge to go throw up in an alley outside the bar. It was the first time someone had actually said her name out loud.

Alistair cleared his throat and downed his drink in one. "She's gone." he stated. Aveline gave him a concerned look and he made sure not to meet her eye. He could not repeat the crying incident again.

"Gone? Really?" Isabela asked. Alistair gave her a curt nod. "That's a shame, I was hoping for round two." She smiled at him and snaked a hand onto his arm. Alistair resisted the impulse to peel his own skin off and then go find a lake to jump into.

He shrugged off her hand roughly and turned to Hawke.

"If we're all done reminiscing," he stated gruffly. "Can you just tell us the job so we can get it over with?"

Hawke glanced at Isabela and then back at Alistair before nodding. "Alright, then, let's get started."

***

"You know that Tabris was so beautiful." Isabela said once, as they were fighting their way through darkspawn. The name came so out of nowhere that Alistair lost his concentration for a minute and one of the shades used the lapse to push him to the ground.

He screamed, his sword suddenly knocked out of his hand, and used his arms to push the darkspawn away, his strength not enough to get it off. As the thing made to take a bite out of his neck there was a sharp singing slice in the air and the dead body collapsed on top of him. 

"You're welcome," Isabela said, sheathing her daggers and kicking the corpse off his body, offering him a hand to get up.

He pushed her hand aside and got up on his own, stomping away stormily.

***

It was around the fifth or sixth time that Isabela had mentioned her, this time while they were in the Hanged Man, thankfully, and not during a dangerous fight, that Alistair physically had to get up and leave the room. The alcohol making his head spin had nothing to do with the sick feeling in his stomach and the stupid tears pricking at his eyes. He could  not cry over her, no, not again, not in front of anyone.

"I need some air." Alistair choked out, pushing up from the table quickly and practically running out the door. 

He leaned against the wall outside the bar, breath heaving, trying to calm his racing heart. When he finally felt like he would not burst into spontaneous tears, he decided to brave the group again. However, as he cracked open the door, he heard voices, very close to where he was standing.

"Listen to me, wench." the voice that sounded like Aveline said angrily and he wondered what she had to be angry about. "You don't mention her again, you hear? That boy has enough issues as is without you reminding him of his past at every turn."

"I wasn't trying to hurt him!" that voice was Isabela and Alistair winced as he heard it. 

"Oh, really?" Aveline said, sounding incredibly skeptical. 

"Really!" Isabela cried. "I'm not some insensitive brute, you know." she growled a bit. "I was just trying to get him to mention her because he seems to have a lot of issues he's avoiding instead of dealing with. And believe me, I know about avoiding problems."

"You were... trying to help?" Aveline asked, confused.

"Yes, alright?" Isabela made an exasperated noise. "The way he's keeping all bottled up isn't healthy." There was a pause before she continued. "Though, if you tell anyone about my momentary gain of a conscience, especially Varric, I will make you regret it, do not doubt me."

Aveline laughed now. "Alright, alright, I won't tell anyone you're an actual human being with feelings as long as you stop harassing Alistair."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Alistair waited until he was sure they were gone before entering the bar again, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

***

"Tell us about Ferelden." Isabela said one day as they were getting celebratory drinks for a job well done. Alistair watched as Aveline gave her a sharp look and fought the urge to smile.

"Why would you want to know about Ferelden?" he asked her. "You lived there."

"Well..." Isabela trailed off a bit, using a single finger to draw circles in the foam from her beer that had spilled on the table. "Not so much about Ferelden than about..."

"Saving the world? Stopping the blight?" Alistair asked.

Hawke laughed. "I honestly do not think you could be more humble."

"Didn't you technically not save the world, because you left the party early?" Varric asked.

Words that once would have pierced him sharply now just made his heart ache numbly. "Well, yes, I suppose so, but I can still tell you about our motley crew."

They all leaned in a bit, excited for the daring tales of the Heroes of Ferelden. So, he decided to oblige.

***

Whenever he told stories of his friends, he tried to avoid mentioning her. He'd tell them of Morrigan, the only other apostate mage he knew who hated his guts, making Hawke by default his favorite apostate. To which Hawke replied "Well, wait until you meet Anders." He'd tell them of Sten, the qunari they had freed who was brash ninety percent of the time but a great warrior nonetheless. Shale, the golem who someone had thought would be a good idea to join their group, though he couldn't deny her fighting prowess.

He'd tell them of Aeducan and her rough way of dealing with politics, how she used to make harsh decisions that the others couldn't. And how Aeducan had played both sides in the battle to be the King of Orzammar, in the end electing the own brother who had betrayed her because she believed he would be the better king for their people despite her own grudges. He'd tell them of Leliana, the chantry sister who was also a bard and who found a way to soften Aeducan's hard exterior.

And Zevran, the elf assassin, who Isabela also knew quite intimately and Oghren, their resident drunk. And, of course, Wynne, the gentle mage who had been like a mother to all of the lost souls that made up their rag tag band.

"Weren't there two Heroes of Ferelden?" Varric asked him one day. "You talk about the dwarf but I'm pretty sure someone told me there was an elf, too?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Hawke said quickly and Alistair wondered how she had known, even if he had never told her. But perhaps she had lost people too. He smiled and nodded at her before turning to Varric.

"I don't like to talk about her because it hurts." he said simply. He paused a bit before taking a deep breath and continuing. "But I think I'm ready, now."

Varric raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "Well, what was her name?"

Alistair smiled. "Tabris... well, Sylvia. And she was the love of my life."

And then he'd tell them about Sylvia Tabris, the elf who had murdered the son of an arl and always tried to give second chances, such as hiring an assassin that had been assigned to kill her. The elf who had suggested they name the Mabari hound they found "Dog" as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The elf who had betrayed him but still held his heart.

And soon the ache did not ache quite as much.

***

"So, you never thought to go back and apologize to Tabris?" Isabela asked him abruptly, taking a seat next to him at the bar.

"What?" he sputtered. "Um, well, I wouldn't know what to say to her." he narrowed his eyes at her. "And what about her apologizing to me?"

"Well, you did leave her just for letting someone live."

"He deserved to die!" he exclaimed.

"And yet, you also praise her ability to give people second chances." Isabela stated, raising a perfect eyebrow at him.

Alistair felt as if he had been knocked about the head. "Well," he said. "I, well, um,"

"Articulate." Isabela smirked.

He flushed. "I'm... I don't think I'm ready to see Sylvia again. I can barely talk about her."

Isabela laughed at him. "And yet, you've managed to talk about her now."

Alistair froze, mentally going through their conversation in his head and realizing it was the first time he had talked about Tabris without wincing at least once. "Oh," he said, dumbly.

"Oh," Isabela mocked, raising her glass in a mock salute. "You're welcome," she said smugly.

Alistair looked at her with a stunned expression. And then he laughed, clinking his glass to hers.


	5. In which Anders is Indignant and Justice is a Prick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gets to play the protective brother and Alistair regrets several of his life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how much I love Awakening!Anders? DA2!Anders is so difficult to write in comparison. In other news, Hawke is still Alistair's favorite apostate.  
> -Styx

When Alistair finally met Anders, it didn’t go well. Varric would later describe it as an epic battle of words, both men locked in a heated argument, with steely eyes and tense jaws. In reality it was just a lot of flushed shouting during which Anders turned blue and Alistair punched a wall.

As with most problems in Alistair’s recent life, it all started with Hawke and Varric.

“We’re going to have to get Anders on board for this one Varric. We need another mage to help us, _and_ he’s a healer.”

“You’ve got a point, let’s go find Blondie.”

That was how Alistair found himself deep within Darktown, keeping a careful eye on their surroundings, in case someone thought they’d make and easy target. After stopping for long enough for Hawke to pick up some poisons and a grenade from a tired looking elf, they made their way to a shabby looking hovel, very obviously set up as a clinic. There was a man standing over a child who was crying and holding his knee. The man closed his eyes and wisps of bluish-white energy surrounded the child’s leg making it glow for a moment. The child’s sobs quieted to the occasional whimper and the mage gave him a reassuring smile.

“There you go, Thomas, all better. Be careful when climbing things next time.”

The boy gave a watery smile and limped out.

“Still healing every poor sod that crawls through the door, I see.” Said Hawke from the door.

“As long as they need healing, I’ll heal them.” He said with a shrug, giving Hawke a small smile, “Nice to see you, Varric.”

“You too, Blondie.”

He glanced at Alistair, and his eyes narrowed, grasping his staff tightly “Hawke.”

“Yes?”

“Did you just bring a Templar into the clinic where I _magically heal people_?”

“Oh no, Alistair’s one of us... sort of.”

“I’m technically not a Templar.” Alistair cut in.

Hawke grinned “What he said. Anyway, Alistair, Anders, former Grey Warden and current healer. Anders, Alistair, former Grey Warden and _Ex-_ Templar.”

Alistair made a speculative noise and gave the other man a quick once over.  The man didn’t look much like a warden, but then again he doubted he did either. He was surprised however to see a flicker of recognition in Anders’ eyes.

“Gray Warden Alistair, huh. I don’t suppose you knew the Warden Commander? Her name was Sylvia Tabris.”

It was like a punch to the gut, hearing her name like that. He swallowed thickly. “So, she made warden commander then?”

“Oh yes.” The words were light, but there was a glower in his tone that made Alistair instinctively tense up for a fight. “Appointed by Queen Anora herself. She was damn good at it too, saved my life more times than I can remember in Amaranthine.”

“So, you served under her?”

“Me and a few others, yes.” Anders tone was becoming progressively darker and Alistair shifted uncomfortably. He could feel Varric and Hawke staring at him, and tried to ignore it. Why did these things always happen in public?

“How-how was she?”

“Oh, she was fine, perfectly cheerful all the time.”

“Really?” Alistair’s heart sank. Had she wanted him to leave? Was that why she had done what she did?

“No! She was bloody broken up about it, what do you think!?” Anders drew himself to his full height, on the verge of shouting. Hawke had Varric had retreated to the corner, and Alistair swore he could hear Varric narrating the events as they occurred. He took a deep breath and stood his ground. He would not be intimidated by this mage. He ignored the traitorous part of his mind that whooped in delight at the idea that Tabris missed him too. Anders was speaking again.

“Oh, she didn’t show it, not when there were talking Darkspawn and rebellious nobles to deal with. But there comes a point when you’ve been traveling with someone long enough to read their emotions and know some of their secrets. You should know that, or did you forget once you betrayed her?”

Alistair decided to file that little tidbit about talking Darkspawn away to ask about later, and bristled.

“She betrayed _me_!”

“Oh really? And just how did she do that? By sparing a man’s life? A man who went on to save her own life and the lives of countless others by sacrificing himself during the fight with the archdemon?”

Wait what? All Alistair had heard about that last fight was that the Heroes of Fereldan had returned victorious, there had been nothing about Loghain. It changed nothing he told himself, Loghain had betrayed Cailan and Duncan. He had sent an assassin after them and made them wanted criminals. No heroic sacrifice could change that. If he was honest, he didn’t sound all that convincing, even to himself. Anders wasn’t finished.

“But no, apparently you were the one who was ‘betrayed’. Never mind the fact that you left her and chancellor Aeducan to face the archdemon alone, at a time when they could have used the help of a more experienced warden, or at least some sort of emotional support!”

Anders’ eyes were beginning to glow, and glowing blue veins danced across his face as his voice deepened.

“Oh, shit!” said Hawke from her corner, as she watched the events unfolding in front of her with wide eyes. Varric was drinking in the sight, trying his best to memorize it for a retelling. Alistair swore and scrambled away from the creature in front of him.

“I am Justice, and you will pay for what you have done to our friend!”

“Oh, wonderful. The healer’s a fucking abomination!”

Hawke decided that this would be a good time to step in.

“Gentlemen, this not the time. We have a job to do, you can get to smiting each other when we’re finished."

Anders cooled down enough to return to his normal self, giving Alistair a withering look as he passed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can’t we bring the elf instead?” he asked Hawke, rather loudly as he passed.

“Fenris is busy, and trust me, we need Alistair.”

Anders made a skeptical noise as he left, and that was when Alistair punched a wall. The pain in his fist did nothing to distract from the dull ache in his chest.

**

The quest was long, and tedious, and involved more blood mages than he was comfortable dealing with. Anders shot him dark looks throughout, and the mage’s healing was much rougher than necessary when it was over. Alistair couldn’t help feeling it was a bit unfair. He did still love Sylvia, despite everything, but she had hurt him badly. He may have been slowly healing from that particular pain, but Anders’ suspicious grumbling was almost worse than Isabela’s innuendos had been. At least Isabela had his best interests at heart. Well, mostly. Anders just didn’t like him. It was understandable, he supposed, and if their situations had been reversed, he would have probably reacted the same way. He didn’t like thinking about that. Imagining Sylvia with Anders made him sick to his stomach. In the end, he avoided the mage, and Anders returned the favor.

**

It took Hawke nearly dying for the two of them to come to some sort of agreement. The quest had seemed simple enough. Clear out some highwaymen and mercenaries from the bowels of Darktown and get a solid amount of coin. It was going quite well, Hawke had taken him along with Varric and Carver and they had the criminals on the defensive. No one had expected the assassins. No less than three had appeared out of the shadows, surrounding an unprotected Hawke, who was firing spells from a distance. They heard a scream, and Alistair turned in time to watch her fall to the ground and stay down. The blood rushed to his ears, nearly drowning out Carver’s shout of “Sister!”.  He began to slice through the remaining foes with a vengeance, Carver right beside him, until there were only a few left.

“We have to get her to Anders, now!” yelled Carver as he took off the last highwayman’s head. Varric shouted his agreement from where he was shooting a hail of arrows at the top of a set of stairs. Alistair being the closest scooped up the prone form of the mage and took off at a run, the other two close behind him, ignoring the strange looks of passerby as they hurtled through the Darktown streets and burst into Anders clinic. The mage took one look at the group of them, panicked and covered in blood, and barked “get her on the table and get out of the way.”

It was a tense hour while Anders worked. Carver had been kicked out for pacing, and Varric was quieter than anyone had ever seen him. Alistair found a corner, sat down and waited. Then, all of a sudden he heard a quiet gasp as Hawke began to stir, and rushed out to let Carver know. The other man hurtled into the clinic, and Alistair followed slowly behind, not wanting to interrupt. As he entered, an exhausted looking Anders caught his eye and nodded. He inclined his head in return.

**

“Do you still get the nightmares?” asked Anders, and Alistair jumped, nearly knocking his drink over. He ought to start taking a seat a seat that faced the door if people were going to keep sneaking up on him like this.

“You had it too, didn’t you?” asked Alistair in response, gesturing for the mage to take the seat next to him. The previous night’s Darkspawn related dream was the reason he had taken up his once familiar position at the bar. Anders shuddered, and took the offered seat. Both men sat in silence for a while.

“I’m only here because Aveline mentioned some things she thought I should know. That, and she made some very convincing threats to various parts of my body.” said Anders suddenly. “I still don’t particularly like you. You hurt my friend very badly, and you’re a _Templar_.”

Alistair sighed “and you’re an _apostate_.” he said, mocking the other man’s tone. “Besides I’m not a Templar anymore.” He was starting to get tired of making that distinction. “I’m just as likely to run off and report you as Carver or Aveline, which is to say not very likely. Besides, I’ve travelled with apostates before.”

“Ah, that’s right, Commander Tabris mentioned something about that. A girl named Morrigan, right? She said she was very pretty and very scary. I said that she sounded like my type, and she said that she’d make mincemeat out of me.” said Anders with a fond laugh.

And they were back on the topic of Sylvia again, Alistair could have kicked himself. He may have found it easier to talk about her, to think about her, but the fact that Anders knew her, and that he knew her after her time with him, unsettled him.

“How close were you with, Tabris- Sylvia.” he asked trying to sound casual. He must have failed though, because Anders’ eyebrows were lost in his hairline.

“We weren’t involved, if that’s what you mean.” he laughed “Sylvia was like a sister to me. She gave me my cat, you know. She told me I remind her of her cousin.”

“Shianni?” He could see that. Anders’ constant expounding on mage rights was very similar to Shianni’s impassioned speech on elven equality, or at least to the particular speech he’d witnessed.

“No.” said Anders “She said I remind her of Soris.”

Alistair was astounded. The Soris they had met was rather reserved, but good natured, taking the injustices thrown his way with a laugh, despite any anger he may have felt towards this persecutors. He got the feeling that the Anders sitting next to him was very different from the Anders Sylvia had met in Amaranthine.

Unaware of Alistair’s thoughts, the mage continued “It wasn’t just me though, she was a sister to all of us. There was just something about her you could trust, and she always knew just what to say to make even the most reluctant of us open up.”

Alistair found himself chuckling at that. “Yes she does have a way of doing that, doesn’t she? Did you know her best friend was an assassin that was hired to kill her?”

“I can believe it! She had Nathaniel Howe hanging on to her every word in about a week.”

“Howe? As in-”

“As in Arl Howe’s youngest, yes.”

“But Arl Howe led the purge of the alienage! She killed the man with her own two hands!”

“Are you suggesting she judge the son for the sins of his father?” Anders’ voice began to echo a bit, and Alistair quickly shook his head. He’d had enough experience with Justice to last a lifetime. Anders smirked.

“You’re lucky it was just me who found you. Nate would have put an arrow through your chest the moment he found out who were, and Velanna threatened to set you on fire if she ever found you. Though that could just be because you’re a human, and she finds us all ‘physically and morally repulsive’” he mused “Oh, and Oghren has been cursing your name since he joined the wardens.”

“Oghren’s a warden now?”

“Yeah.”

“Maker help us all!”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Seneschal Varel said at the joining.”

They fell silent again. Conflicting thoughts and emotions fought for dominance in his mind. He missed her, more than he ever could have thought possible, and he knew he must have hurt her, especially if these strange people were so protective of her, even if they had known her for only a fraction of the time he had.

“I- there are days-” he started, before pursing his lips. Anders looked at him curiously, and he took a deep breath “I miss her. A lot. This year without her hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt, and that includes the time Morrigan’s mother stepped on me while she was a dragon.”

Anders quirked an eyebrow at that odd statement, and Alistair had a feeling he was going to be fending off Varric’s questioning later.

“Justice would like you to know he believes you deserve every second.”

“Justice is a prick.” Alistair muttered.

“Well, Justice had great respect for the Warden Commander.” said Anders with a shrug

“About that, I was wondering how you survived the joining with a spirit inside you.” asked Alistair curiously.

“We didn’t exactly have this arrangement at the time. I- we- didn’t meet Justice until after my joining, under some very interesting circumstances.”

“That usually seems to be the case with these things.”

Anders chuckled, and gave Alistair a speculative look.

“Look after yourself, Templar.” he said, before leaving the bar.

“I’m not- you know what, forget it.” Alistair sighed as he watched Anders’ retreating figure, trying to decide if the apostate’s parting words were a threat or sign that the mage was warming up to him. He took a gulp of his drink and made a face. It had gone warm, which made the piss poor ale taste even worse. He had meant what he said to Anders, he really did miss her. His time in Kirkwall had lead Alistair to the realization that there were certain decisions he regretting making. He stared at his now undrinkable ale. Sylvia was always ready to give second chances, everyone knew that, but Alistair was wondering if he’d ever get one. Even if he did, did he deserve one after screwing up his first chance so royally?

 

 


	6. In Which Merrill Uses Logic and Alistair Feels Even More Like an Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill is definitely the strangest elf Alistair has ever met but she's not nearly as daft as she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merrill is a difficult character to write ugh. Maybe its because I didn't interact with her much in my playthrough whoops. Alistair continues to be a lost puppy who needs guidance. -R

Within ten minutes of meeting Merrill, Alistair determined that she was quite probably insane.

For one, there was the blood mage thing, which Hawke had clued him in on already, but it was one thing hearing about Merrill and quite another to be in her presence while she searched for ingredients to  summon a demon . According to Hawke, she quite firmly would not be deterred from her quest to rebuild the Eluvian which Alistair got an earful of when he made an offhand comment on their way to Sundermount.

"Elgar'nan!" Merrill exclaimed with exasperation. "I've had to explain my reasons enough times to Hawke already without you saying things; I barely even know you!"

Alistair frowned and backed off immediately with a quick sorry and decided to stay back with Hawke, who was wincing at him while Aveline and Varric walked ahead with Merrill. 

"Probably making sure she doesn't get too distracted by stress and anger to fall off the mountain." Hawke said to him. Alistair looked at her quizzically, to which she responded "Merrill's not the best with concentration."

Alistair nodded. "Why did she jump at me like that?" Alistair asked her after a while.

Hawke sighed. "I'm sorry about that, it's my fault. I've been questioning her about her decisions at every turn and she's been getting a little antsy."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully and decided to not say anything about how people confident in their choices would not be so stressed when questioned.

***

By the time they got back to Kirkwall, it was late, the sun already set an hour or so before. Aveline left them for her quarters and Alistair, Merrill, Varric, and Hawke made their way through Lowtown to their respective homes. As they reached the Hanged Man, Hawke turned to look at the group. 

"Does anyone want to get a drink?" she asked, looking around at the downtrodden group, and particularly Merrill who had not found what she needed. 

"Maker, yes, please," Varric groaned. He turned to look at Merrill. "Hey, Daisy, you look like you could use one."

Alistair was pretty sure Merrill did not hear him because she did not answer, her eyes seemed far away. "Merrill." Hawke said, waving her hand in front of the elf's eyes. Merrill blinked back to reality in shock.

"Oh." she said, looking around at them. "What did you need, Hawke?"

"A drink, Daisy?" Varric asked.

"Oh, no, no," Merrill said, frowning. "I'm really not in the mood." she bit her lip. "Besides, I need to be sober to get back and do some more reading."

"Merrill," Hawke said with a concerned whine. "You really don't need to be doing more research at this hour..." she trailed off as Merrill shook her head firmly.

"No, I must." there was a stubborn tilt to her chin that reminded Alistair sharply of Aeducan when she went to meet her brother Bhalen again for the first time after being exiled. Alistair had thought it was incredibly stupid while Aeducan had insisted that she needed to confront Bhalen before she could move on. Leliana had told him it had something to do with how her other brother Trian died, but said nothing more, and the dwarf never talked about to event with anyone else, except maybe Sten.

Hawke sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Alright," she said, defeated and turned to look at Alistair. "You're coming right?"

"Um..." Alistair said, looking at the bar, and then back at the petite elvish girl, who was already spacing out, and around at the shady corners of Darktown. "I'll catch up with you two later. I'll help walk her home." he said, nodding his head in Merrill's direction.

Alistair caught the brief flash of gratitude in Varric's eyes even as Merrill began her protests of there being no need for that. "He's accompanying you." Hawke said firmly, nodding at Alistair who smiled.

Alistair and Merrill waited for Hawke and Varric to enter the Hanged Man before they started on their way. It was a silent trip, Alistair not knowing what to say in the face of what their last conversation had been, and Merrill probably not wanting to talk to some bigoted... what was the word Tabris always used again? "Shem"? 

They finally reached the Alienage, the dreariest part of town in Alistair's opinion, and something that made him personally angry for the elves' plight, and Merrill made an expectant noise when they reached her house. The two shuffled in front of the door for a bit awkwardly before Merrill blurted out "I'm really sorry for how I snapped at you before." The sentence came out as one rushed phrase, the words blurring into each other, but Alistair got it all the same.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Uh," he said uncertainly. "It's fine, really. All in the past."

"No, I really feel so bad." Merrill said, her eyes staring at the floor, her feet shuffling a bit. She suddenly looked up at him, eyes wide. "I know! I'll make you a cup of tea to apologize. Come in!" Alistair gave her an uncertain look to which Merrill loudly cried "Pleaaasssee!" with her eyes just a little misty and Alistair quickly agreed.

He couldn't make someone so adorable cry. That had to be akin to kicking a puppy, in terms of sins, right?

"It's really not very clean," Merrill said, instantly bustling around the small front room, trying to sweep things that littered the floor to the side. "I swear I've been meaning to clean up but I keep getting distracted..." she trailed off, picking up a big stack of dusty books from an old looking chair and dumping them unceremoniously into a corner. 

"Sit," she said gesturing at the chair hopefully. Alistair sat very carefully, praying to the Maker that it didn't break right under him.

She practically ran out of the room and Alistair waited awkwardly for a few minutes until Merrill reappeared with two cups of steaming liquid, one of which she sent down in front of Alistair. She took her own seat across from him. "Drink it!" she said, giving him a hopeful look. "I just learned to make this tea recently. Shemlen varieties are so very different."

Alistair picked up the glass, trying to ignore the dirty exterior and sipped cautiously at the drink. It tasted a lot like bitter, vaguely sugar infused water.

"Is it good?" Merrill asked in expectation.

Alistair looked at her happy eyes and anticipation and nodded. "Yeah, really good." he said, taking another large gulp of the liquid. 

"Oh, good." she sighed, taking her own sip. Her hands fidgeted around the cup before she finally blurted out "Really, I'm very sorry about before, things have been stressful and -"

Alistair laughed, cutting her off midsentence. "Honestly, Merrill, it's fine, really. I shouldn't have questioned you right after meeting you, it was rude."

Merrill smiled slightly at that. "Okay, good, I was worried you might hate me or something and I've never been hated before so it was a strange thought." she smiled brightly at him now. "So, Alistair, Hawke said you were a grey warden from Ferelden."

"That's right."

"So is Anders!" Merrill's eyes widened in excitement. "I met a grey warden once when I lived in Ferelden but Anders hadn't known who he was, but he was a new warden so, maybe that's why. I think you could know him!"

Alistair chuckled at the childlike excitement. "Yes, possibly. I was taken in by the grey wardens when I was much younger. Who's this warden you met?"

"His name was Duncan!" Alistair froze, his whole body going cold, but Merrill continued without notice. "He was quite nice, Duncan. Especially since I was much more wary of shemlens back then, but Duncan was ever so kind. He was looking for recruits was what he said, but we hadn't anyone to give him. It was a shame, really. Did you know him?" Merrill finally seemed to snap back to reality and looked at Alistair's face and caught the grimace. "Oh, dear, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I did, didn't I? Creators, I did not mean -"

"It's fine." Alistair bit out, his voice unintentionally harsh and he saw Merrill flinch. Alistair winced. "I didn't mean -" he said, forcing his voice to be gentler. "I'm sorry, Merrill, I just..." he sighed and rubbed a hand against his forehead. "Duncan was a very good friend of mine."

"Was?" Merrill asked, her voice small.

"He died. At Ostagar." Alistair said simply, taking another huge gulp of the bland tea just to have something to do.

Merrill seemed to wilt like a flower. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Alistair said, his mind already flashing back to that day. The horror of watching the darkspawn storm in and knowing King Cailan was back there, defenseless. Seeing Duncan running back towards the futile battle to save their king. Loghain abandoning them all to die like a coward. His hand clenched his cup in the sudden anger and the liquid sloshed dangerously, threatening to spill over the sides.

He felt enraged suddenly. After all that had happened, she had still  let him live . Loghain had left them all to die, sent assassins after them and she had let him live, as if his crimes  were forgivable . Merrill must have noticed his sudden stormy mood because she subtly coughed, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb your sulking." Alistair opened his mouth to say he did  not sulk but Merrill kept talking. "Fenris never likes interruptions while he's brooding, but I wanted to say that you can talk about whatever you'd like with me. I mean, I'm very good at keeping secrets if I put my mind to it, just ask Isabela!" her bright eyes dimmed a bit again and Alistair felt distinctly bad for being the cause of that. "Anyway, you can talk to me about it. I'm a very good listener." she tipped her head forward as if to show off her pointy elf ears as proof of her listening skills.

Alistair sighed. "I don't want to impose my problems on you -"

Merrill interrupted with a loud "I don't mind!" she looked at him with large, expectant eyes. They implored into Alistair's soul until finally the man decided to just give in. It's not like it would hurt him to talk about it. Though Aveline might hurt him for not talking to her after the thousands of times she asked, and now confiding in a complete stranger instead.

"Well," Alistair started a bit unsure. Merrill wiggled in her seat, trying her best to encourage the talking with her eyes. "Duncan was a very good friend of mine, almost like a father to me sometimes." he ran a hand through his hair. "The reason he died at Ostagar was because Loghain," he spat the name out like a curse. "abandoned us to die at the hands of the darkspawn. Me and Aeducan and," he choked a bit. "Tabris managed to escape."

"Tabris is...?" Merrill asked.

"The current warden commander." Alistair answered. "She was one of the Heroes of Ferelden."

"Oh!" Merrill said in surprise. "Wow, so you travelled with them?"

"Yes," Alistair answered, with a tired sigh. "We travelled together. Me and Tabris were... close."

"Like good friends?"

"Um," Alistair said. He shifted a bit in his chair unsure. "Well, more than friends."

"Like family?"

Alistair stared at her for a long moment. Finally, Merrill frowned at him. "I missed something, didn't I?"

"We were lovers." Alistair blurted out, with all the tact of a very tactless teaspoon.

"Oh!" Merrill gave him a smile that wasn't at all like the leers Isabela usually gave, but made him feel just as self conscious. "So, what happened between you and Tabris?" Alistair gave her a questioning look. "I mean, why aren't you still by her side?"

Alistair rubbed at his temples. "She, well, there was a Landsmeet once we got the support needed to overthrow Loghain, since he was pretty much king at that point." Merrill nodded though Alistair was sure she hardly understood human politics. He doubted she really even gave thought to Dalish politics. "Well, at the Landsmeet, after we defeated Loghain, she should have killed him, as punishment for his crimes and everything he had done but instead she gave him the opportunity to become a grey warden." He growled the last bit, clenching his hands into fists and trying to push the betrayal and not quite small amount of guilt from his mind.

Suddenly, Merrill said "So, she let him live."

"Yes," Alistair said, looking at her. She was frowning at him. "What?"

"Well, it's nothing, really." Alistair gave her a skeptical look. "Well, not nothing, but it's not important, I shouldn't comment on your decisions."

"No, say what you need to." Alistair said, curious as to the elf's opinion.

"Well, from what I understand, the grey wardens are an order made to protect the world from the darkspawn. When Duncan came to our clan, he was looking for all the recruits he could, even Pol, this city elf from Denerim who had been sentenced to hang for stealing." Merrill gave Alistair a gentle look that gave her the appearance of wisdom way beyond her years. "He said they needed all the grey wardens they could get and that joining the order was a chance for redemption. Meaning no offense, of course, but I believe that forgiving this Loghain is what he would have wanted as well, right?"

Alistair stared at the elf in stunned wonder, suddenly feeling as if he'd been wacked upside the head. Sparing Loghain is exactly what Duncan would have wanted, now that he stopped to actually think about the facts without prejudice. It was a wonder that he had not realized it before. Duncan would tell Alistair he was being an idiot for holding old grudges when Loghain could provide such tactical skills to their cause. Alistair suddenly felt very small.

"Did I say something wrong?" Merrill asked. "I really didn't want to make you feel mad. Oh, Creators, I've done it again -"

"Merrill!" Alistair cut her off, a sudden laugh threatening to bubble forth. He felt guilt, overwhelming guilt, but also as if a large burden had suddenly been relieved of him. He didn't need to feel like he had failed Duncan by letting Loghain live, because that is exactly the decision Duncan would have made. "Thank you." he said, laughing hard now.

And eventually Merrill was laughing too.

When Alistair finally caught his breath, he stood up, feeling lighter than he had in a while. "I should get going."

Merrill nodded. "Yes, Hawke might be waiting. Or Varric. Or both."

"Right." Alistair said, moving towards the door. He suddenly paused and turned to Merrill. "I wanted to say," he started. "I wanted to say thank you, for helping me not take on burdens I didn't need."

Merrill smiled. "Varric always says I have an innocently logical way of getting under people's skin. But I don't quite know what he means by that."

"Well, it's true." Alistair laughed and then remembered what he had wanted to say to her. "I just thought I shouldn't lie to you and I should try to return the favor of giving advice." he bit his lip, hoping Merrill would not take this too badly. "Merrill, your quest for the Eluvian... your dealings with blood magic...."

Merrill's smile morphed quickly into a glare. "Are we on this again?" she snapped, her voice sharp. "This is my history, and I won't back down from what I have to do. Would you not go this far to know more about the history of the wardens?" Merrill asked him.

"No." Alistair said firmly. "The past is the past. There is nothing worth the cost you're paying that we could learn from it." Merrill opened her mouth but he cut her off. "No, Merrill, demons find ways to use your greatest desires against you and your quest for the Eluvian will put you in danger."

"Then, I willingly accept that danger." Merrill said firmly. Alistair fidgeted, both worried for her and incredibly miffed about her stubbornness. Finally, he relented.

"Alright, I won't say more." he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Just know, that if you need help or think you're in too deep, I sincerely hope you will tell someone." Merrill's eyes looked at him sadly. "Your friends are just worried about you, Merrill. Help us protect you."

Merrill merely nodded at him. "You should go, now, I suppose." she said and Alistair inclined his head in agreement.

He smiled at her one last time, before walking out the door.

Merrill might be insane, he thought to himself as he headed back to the Hanged Man, but perhaps with that insanity came wisdom. Alistair just hoped that the combination of the two did not lead her into ruin.


	7. Alistair gets to Meddle in Someone Else’s Love Life for A Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows Fenris and Hawke are stupid about each other, now if only they would _do something_ about it. Coincidentally, meddling is a lot harder than Alistair thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can not describe how much I love Fenris, but dear god this chapter drove me mad! Also, Alistair is actually happy! I wonder how long that's going to last? -Styx

Alistair was honestly surprised he hadn’t met Fenris before now. The elf had joined Hawke’s motley crew only a short time after Alistair had run into Varric at The Hanged Man for the first time, and Hawke wouldn’t shut up about him. Honestly, he’d never met the guy, but he knew that he was an elf, an escaped slave from Tevinter, that he despised and distrusted mages (a fact that made Hawke look a little disappointed whenever it was mentioned), and that he and Anders shouldn’t be allowed anywhere _near_ each other if you were hoping to have a good day. He even knew the elf’s favorite color. It was green.

No one seemed to realize they hadn’t actually met, so when they finally did, it was just luck. Alistair just happened to show up to wicked grace the same night as Fenris. He usually passed on the games, since he always ended up in debt to Varric and Isabela, but for once he had some extra coin in his pocket, and he was, at the very least, better than Anders.

Their usual table was rather crowded. Varric and Isabela sat huddled together whispering ominously. Alistair caught snatches of the conversation.

“Carver…. head over heels… do you think she knows?”

“Doubt it… it’s a bit sad… we could…”

Alistair avoided eye contact, nothing good could ever come out of joining Varric and Isabela’s little schemes, even, or perhaps especially,when Carver was involved. Besides, anyone with eyes could see that Carver was stupid about Merrill… except Merrill herself, apparently. The bubbly elf was currently involved in a deep conversation with the younger Hawke, somehow managing to completely miss his awkward flirting. Alistair shook his head, maybe it was good that their two rouges were stepping in, the boy needed all the help he could get.

Aveline was missing, as usual. She always declined these little events, saying that she’d rather not have to arrest any of her friends. Anders had taken up his usual seat next to Hawke, and was in the middle of what looked like a serious discussion with her. She didn’t really seem to be paying attention though. He caught her eyes moving to the seat across the table. Following the movement, he spotted and elf with olive skin covered in markings and a shock of white hair. He was watching Carver and Merrill with thinly veiled amusement. So this was Fenris. He gave the elf a quick once over and realized that while he gave the impression of being absorbed by Carver’s failing romance, he was watching a certain distracted apostate out of the corner of his eye. Could it be- oh this could be very interesting. Alistair grinned, before making his way towards Hawke and Anders. He sat down on Hawke’s other side, clapping a hand to her shoulder. She grinned at him, and he leaned around her to face Anders.

 

“Ready to lose all your coin to me, mage?”

Anders rolled his eyes “Say it louder why don’t you, I don’t think that man in the back of the pub heard you.”

Alistair shot him what Aeducan would have called a shit-eating grin, the one he’d picked up from Zevran, and Anders groaned. “I’m not losing any money to you, Templar. Maybe to Varric or Isabela, but not to you.”

“We’ll see about that. And you know I’m not actually a Templar, right?”

“So you keep saying.”

Hawke groaned and slapped a palm to her forehead. “Staffy and Helmet should learn to get along!”

Anders flushed and Alistair just laughed and said “You wound me, Hawke, right to my very soul.”

“I’ll wound you somewhere more visible if you don’t stop.” She replied with a smirk, elbowing him lightly.

Alistair chanced a glance at Fenris. He was still pretending to watch Carver and Merrill, but he had tensed, and Alistair could see his jaw clenching from where he was seated. He caught the elf’s eye and smiled at him.

“I’m Alistair” he said loudly, inclining his head “I haven’t had the pleasure?”

“Fenris.” said the elf. Was he gritting his teeth? It sounded an awful lot like he was gritting his teeth.

“Woah, woah, woah,” said Varric looking up from his scheming “Pup, are you telling me that you’ve never met our broody friend before today?”

“Nope. Today’s the first time.”

“Huh, I could have sworn Hawke had introduced you.”

Alistair let out a laugh “Trust me, Varric, she may as well have.”

“ _She_ is right here, you know.” said Hawke, sounded slightly irritated, and was that embarrassment coloring her tone? Isabela was giving her a speculative look. He might actually have an ally here.

Fenris cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Varric, are we going to play or not?”

“Oh, by all means, let’s get started!”

Alistair ended up losing five sovereigns to Fenris that day.

 

**

It was nice to not be the butt of the joke for once. Alistair had received a lot of gentle, and in Morrigan’s case not so gentle, ribbing from his friends when he’d first started courting Tabris. It was funny, how the memories of that time in his life made him more nostalgic than upset these days.

Watching Hawke and Fenris was amusing, to say the least. A blind nug could see that Hawke was interested in the elf, and from what he could tell, Fenris seemed to reciprocate her feelings, but something was stopping him from acting on his feelings.

It wasn’t like their friends didn’t know there was… something happening between the two of them. Isabela had made it her new pet project, and dragged Varric along for the ride, asking them questions that made Fenris glower and Hawke cough embarrassedly and arranging for them to be left alone during quests. That last tactic was used sparingly after the two had come home covered in scorch marks and demonic ash and then refused to talk to Isabela for a week. Aveline made it exceedingly clear that she wasn’t getting involved, though the longer their awkward little dance went on, the less inclined Alistair was to believe that she wouldn’t interfere. He really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Aveline may be a fantastic career counselor, but he doubted her skills extended to matchmaking.

Merrill found the whole thing amusing, and giggled at what she called “Fenris’ puppy dog eyes”. Anders on the other hand got more and more agitated as the awkward not-quite courtship went on. He, for obvious reasons, didn’t approve of Fenris, and made his feelings very clear. Carver seemed to have similar feelings on the matter, and spent a lot of time glaring at the elf, much to his sister’s exasperation.

Alistair watched it all with amusement and growing frustration. He couldn’t fathom why Fenris wasn’t _doing anything_ when Hawke made her feelings abundantly clear. He remembered what it was like to court someone. The constant butterflies, the fear that he could be rejected at any time, the overwhelming feeling of _awe_ when she smiled in his direction, he could remember it all like it was yesterday. But he had never been sure about Sylvia’s feelings to words him, not at first, anyway, while Hawke was practically asking for Fenris to make a move.

“This is getting ridiculous!” He groused at Isabela, who nodded exasperatedly

“I agree. Hawke’s not doing anything because she isn’t certain of his feelings, but Fenris has no excuse.” she knocked back her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand “Even if he wasn’t interested, which is clearly not true, the least he could do is give a straightforward rejection!”

The words brought back a half remembered conversation, one he wasn’t exactly supposed to hear. It was when the camp was on their way to the Brecilian Forest, and Alistair was dealing with a bout of insomnia. He had decided to take a walk that night, hoping to tire himself out enough to get a decent night’s sleep. As he returned to camp, he caught the tail end of a conversation, and almost against his will, crept closer to hear it better.

“If you’re not interested, the least you could do is give a straightforward rejection and put the man out of his misery!” said Aeducan, poking at the fire with a large stick. Tabris was seated next to her, polishing her daggers with an oiled rag. Both wardens had decided to take the first watch. Alistair had held his breath, hoping that he wouldn’t be caught out.

Tabris had shaken her head “It’s not that! I am interested, or well at least I think I am!” she said, as she raised one of the daggers, inspecting the silver blade in the light of the campfire. It had taken all Alistair’s will power to stifle a gasp and ignore the heartbeat thundering in his ears “It’s just… well…”

“Spit it out Tabris.” Aeducan had said impatiently, as the elf rubbed the back of her neck.

“It’s just, Alistair’s been incredibly kind, all things considered, and he really is very, very sweet.”

“But?”

“But he’s a shem.”

“Oh Tabris.” Aeducan’s voice was gentler than he’d ever heard, than probably anyone had heard, except for maybe Leliana “He’d never-”

“Don’t you think I know that!” snapped Tabris, and then she shook her head “sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t snap at you.” She sighed. “Alistair is… well he’s Alistair.” she let out a laugh “He’s sweet, and funny, and kind of an idiot, but in a good way. I’d like to, you know… but my previous experiences with shemlen haven’t exactly been pleasant.” she turned to Aeducan and gave a sardonic smile “I _know_ he wouldn’t hurt me if he could help it, but is it stupid that I still feel defensive around him, around all of them? Even after travelling together for all this time?”

Aeducan shook her head “I think you have good reason to feel whatever you feel. Maybe you’ll get over it one day, maybe not, but you’re not going to know either way if you keep hiding whenever actual emotions are involved.” Tabris had chuckled and ducked her head, and Aeducan had grinned. “Listen, do you want this? You and Alistair?”

Crouched in the shadows, Alistair was sure the entire world went still and silent as Tabris considered her answer.

“I- yes. I do want that. It’s just-” Aeducan raised a hand, halting Tabris midsentence.

“Well now that you’re sure, make a move. Take it one step at a time Sylvia, you’ll be fine.”

Tabris offered her a small smile, which Aeducan returned

“Besides, if he ever does hurt you, I’ll cut him in half.”

Tabris’ surprised laughter echoed in his ears as he shook the memory away, and he came to a startling realization.  It was obvious to everyone that Fenris had feelings for Hawke, but then Hawke was a mage, a class of people who had tortured and humiliated the former slave, and a class of people he claimed to despise. He had been thinking about this situation backwards.

“Fenris isn’t me!” he blurted out. Isabela raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Varric, who coughed subtly.

“That’s right. Fenris resembles an angsty porcupine more than an enthusiastic puppy. Great job for noticing.”

Alistair ignored the jibe and powered through his epiphany. “Fenris isn’t me, Fenris is Tabris!”

“All right Alistair, I think you’re done for the day.” said Isabela, reaching over to take the mug from his hand. He waved her away and placed the mug on the table in front of him.

“I have to go.” he said, heading out the door, leaving two very confused and somewhat concerned friends behind him. He needed to do some thinking.

**

“So, Fenris.”

“Alistair?”

“How- how are you?”

The elf gave him a blank look. “I’m fine, I suppose.”

“Good. Good. So I was wondering, Handsome elf like you, you’re bound have your eye on _someone_.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow “Alistair, I’m _really_ not interested.”

“That’s not what I- ugh! Never mind!”

 

**

“So, Hawke is quite beautiful, don’t you agree?”

“I won’t deny it.”

“Do you know if she fancies anyone?”

“If you’re looking to get together with Hawke, I’m hardly the person you should ask. Try Carver, or Varric, or better yet, _Hawke herself_.”

“No I’m not- That’s not what I’m asking!”

“Goodbye, Alistair.”

**

Fenris had started to actively avoid him, though with the way Alistair had been flubbing up his subtle attempts at questioning, it was hardly a surprise. He managed to finally corner the elf during one of Varric’s games of wicked grace. It was either his incredible luck or Varric’s interference that made the only available seat the one next to Fenris. He didn’t speak to the elf, not when the game was going on. He had to make this count. It wasn’t until they decided to break for drinks that Alistair finally made his move.

“I had a girlfriend once.” he said, suddenly.

Fenris stiffened, but otherwise gave no indication that he had been startled by the words. Alistair forged on.

“She was an elf, probably the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. I loved her, or I suppose I still do.”

“Is this the one you left to fight the Archdemon when she let your rival live?”

Alistair winced “Varric’s told that story to just about everyone, huh?”

Fenris chuckled “The entirety of the Free Marches probably knows by now.”

Alistair groaned and buried his face in his hands, and Fenris cleared his throat. “You made… a difficult decision. I do not know what I would have done in your position. Probably the same thing.”

Alistair gave the elf a startled look. This was new. Fenris kept speaking, ignoring, or perhaps not noticing Alistair’s sudden movement. “Yes. If… someone I cared about were ever to spare Danarius, if she- they- ever got the chance and abstained from landing the killing blow, I would do much the same, I think, if not worse.”

“Would you regret it?” blurted Alistair.

Fenris looked thoughtful “Perhaps. I regret many things. I suppose in time, I may come to regret the decision. But then, this is all hypothetical.”

“And I doubt Hawke will ever refrain from killing Danarius if the two should meet.”

It was Fenris’ turn to start at that statement “I never said-”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Have I been that transparent?”

“You both have, and it’s been driving the rest of us mad!”

“I… care for her, I do. But she’s a mage, like Danarius and the other Tevinter Magisters.”

“You’re right in saying that she’s a mage, but she’s nothing like Danarius. Would Danarius cover for a young boy trying to make a living for his sisters? Would he fight again and again for the sake of his friends? Would he use his magic to help heal others?”

Fenris was silent, and Alistair decided to push his luck.

“Do you want to pursue a relationship with Hawke?”

“I’m… not averse to it.”

Alistair fought the urge to snort. “Right. Well, there you go, decision made. Now buck up and make a move, this is getting ridiculous.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t have to be a grand romantic gesture or anything, just _something_ to make her realize you reciprocate.”

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. Not with Danarius’ men hounding me at every turn. I _can’t_ bring them to her doorstep. I’ll never be free as long as that bastard still lives.”

“As an actual bastard, I take offense to that.” Fenris rolled his eyes, and Alistair considered his distraction a success “In all honesty, Fenris, we all understand that he’ll come after you some day, and when he does, we’ll be ready for him. We protect our own, don’t we?” he offered the other man a grin and found it tentatively returned “Until then, you’re a free man, try to live like one. Take it one step at a time, Fenris. Everything will be alright.”

Fenris gave a thoughtful hum, and Alistair made a mental note to thank Aeducan if he ever saw her again, if she didn’t kill him on sight for abandoning the lot of them, that is. He gave the elf next to him a searching look. Fenris was strong, there was no doubt about it. He just needed to get his head out of the storm clouds and focus on the now. Hawke would be good for him.

“Will you think on it, at least?” he asked.

“I- I will do that.” Fenris agreed

“Good.” said Alistair with a grin, before raising his voice “Hey, Varric, are we playing or not?!”

“Alright, alright! Quit your yapping pup, I’m dealing now!”

Alistair ended up winning 50 silver that day. It was a start.


	8. Alistair is Somehow the Smart Older Brother Type For Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Carver isn't taken on the Deep Roads expedition, he almost goes down a dangerous road that Alistair manages to talk him out of.

Alistair had been around the group for so long that he had forgotten they were not just a casual group of friends who occasionally went questing for fun and that Hawke and Varric actually had a goal in mind. Apparently, the two were trying to raise enough money to invest in an expedition for the deep roads, as they were kind enough to tell him the day before they left (rude, he thought). Hawke asked him to go with them, but Alistair was quick to tell them that he hadn't been in the deep roads since he went to Orzammar and he definitely was not eager to return.

Even Grey Wardens need a rest from the darkspawn.

Eventually, it was decided that Hawke and Varric would go, accompanied by Isabela, who was eager to find treasure even if it wasn't by ship, and Fenris, who adamantly refused to admit he was going because he was worried about Hawke. Carver had apparently wanted to go as well, but Hawke had refused to take him, at the desperate request of their mother.

This rejection was probably why Alistair found Carver drinking at the Hanged Man when he walked in.

"Carver?" Alistair asked, approaching the man who was still clad in the armor he had been planning to go on the expedition in.

"Alistair." Carver growled. His eyes seemed to widen a bit and he scrambled up from the bar and turned to look at Alistair. "Wait, you were a templar!"

Alistair gave him a blank look. "I did think we'd worked past that."

"What's it like?" Carver asked him and he had that dangerous look in his eye that Alistair had seen in quite a lot of knights who had failed their training and just wanted some purpose.

Alistair sat down in the stool next to him and waved off the barkeep who held up a drink questioningly.

"What's what like?"

"Being a templar," Carver said easily, taking another large swig of the drink and turning to look Alistair in the eye.

Alistair gave him a worried stare. "Why do you want to know, Carver?"

"I want to be a templar."

Alistair barked out a laugh. When Carver kept his straight face, he frowned. "No, you don't." he said slowly, as if explaining something to a very slow child.

"I do!" Carver practically whined and Alistair resisted the urge to smack his hand to his forehead in exasperation.

"Carver," he said carefully. "Your own sister is an apostate mage. Being a templar is the last thing you want to be."

"Maybe I don't care what my sister is." Carver growled. "Maybe I'm allowed to make decisions based on what I want. She had no problem disregarding how I felt when it came to the expedition."

Alistair sighed. So, that was where this was coming from. He looked carefully at Carver who was sipping at his ale glumly, his brow furrowed. He had a sudden sharp reminder of himself when he wanted to become a templar, or, well, when he was in the process of becoming a templar.

He remembers he was getting spectacularly drunk at a local bar, the small vial of lyrium that the chantry had given him itching in his hand. He had been debating the idea of just downing it, the pros severely outweighing the cons the longer he considered, when Duncan walked in.

Duncan moved with the presence of a father, somehow, despite the fact that he never had children of his own. He once told Alistair that it was because bratty recruits made him that way. He had sat down next to Alistair heavily, ordered a strong ale and said "Son, what are you doing with that vial of lyrium?"

Alistair had cursed and tried to stuff it hastily back into his pocket but Duncan had merely raised a single eyebrow. "Clearly, I've already seen it. So, what are you doing?"

Alistair stared at him before giving in and mumbling "I'm in the middle of templar training."

"Templar training, eh?" Duncan asked, even then his bat-like hearing scaring Alistair shitless, a characteristic of Duncan's that contrasted sharply with his benign personality. Well, benign to everything except darkspawn, of course. "Any reason why you look like you're having a crisis about lyrium, training templar?"

Alistair had sighed and said "I don't know if I want to do this." When Duncan had said nothing, silently pressing him to continue, he said "The lyrium makes me feel strange the first time I tried it. I don't want to feel like that. But this is all I have."

"All you have?" Duncan had asked him curiously.

"I'm a forgotten bastard." Alistair had let out with a bitter laugh. "I need to find glory somewhere my name can't get me." He had lifted the bottle, finally, to open it at last when Duncan's heavy hand clapped down on his arm.

"You could become a Grey Warden." Duncan said, simply, giving Alistair the strangest challenging look. "I promise we don't force you to become addicted to lyrium. Addicted to killing darkspawn, perhaps, but that just adds to the glory, right?"

Alistair shook himself from his stupor to see the lost man, no, lost boy sitting next to him.

"You could become a Grey Warden." Alistair said, echoing his mentor’s words, and Carver's head shot up to stare at him.

"I don't think there are many Grey Wardens in the free marches." Carver said carefully.

"Maybe you could be Warden Commander, then." Alistair joked, before sobering at Carver's lost expression. "Besides, there's always Grey Wardens somewhere in the deep roads."

"I..." Carver trailed off, looking unsure.

"Look," Alistair said, his voice serious. "You don't want to become a templar, believe me. It's a lot politics and racial tensions and the lyrium addiction and dependency is really not the best situation when your sister is an apostate. Do you want to have to make the decision between entrapping her and dying a painful death?" he asked and Carver shook his head fast. "That's right."

"But..." Carver said, his voice wavering. "Being a Grey Warden is dangerous, right?"

"Yeah, it is." Alistair said simply. "It's dangerous, it's tiring, you could die in the ritual if you aren't strong enough and the nightmares are the worst. But if you can get past that, it is the kind of life you would enjoy. A life of simple things, of fighting for the greater good, a life where no one's past matters and everyone's treated as an equal when it comes to fighting." He gave Carver a considering look. "Somewhere perfect to get out of an older sibling's shadow?"

"I'm not... I don't...." Carver trailed off.

Alistair smiled. "Yeah, I know. I was a lot like you once. Same doubts about self worth and everything. Definitely better at taking a joke but very similar." He winked when Carver glared at him.

"So, the Grey Wardens would take me?"

"They take everyone." Alistair said gently. "But I need you to make me a promise if you're going to do this."

Carver reluctantly nodded at him. "What's the promise?"

"At least wait until Hawke gets back before you make your decision? No matter what you think about her at this moment, you two are family. She probably left you behind to protect you." Carver opened his mouth, a protest already begin to form on his lips most likely. Alistair held up hand. "Or," he said. "She might have left you behind to protect your mother? Your only other living family?"

Carver snapped his mouth shut and was silent for a bit before quietly saying "Not only living family. There's Gamlen, too."

Alistair snorted. "Pretty sure Hawke tries to ignore Gamlen's presence as much as humanly possible." Alistair replied, thinking back to the one and only time he'd seen Hawke interacting with her sleazy uncle.

Carver laughed this time as well. "Yeah, she really does not like him."

"That's putting it lightly."

They were both silent, the companionable atmosphere stretching like a blanket to encompass the two. At last, Alistair broke the silence by saying "Hey, another point against being a templar - Merrill would probably not be on board. Well, I suppose she would but there's another apostate you'd have to be protecting on the side."

Carver blushed, his face beginning to show an incredible likeness to a ripe tomato. "Merrill? Why would I care what Merrill thought? Why would I protect Merrill?"

"So, you wouldn't protect her?"

"No! I would! I mean, yes. I mean, no, I -"

"I mean, we all know you have a gigantic crush."

"I do not -" Carver began hotly, his cheeks flushing even brighter, if possible.

"Hey, don't get all worked up over it. Merrill's oblivious at least. Though, I'm unsure if that's a good thing." Alistair paused thoughtfully. "You should probably beware of Isabela, though. She's planned some scary things to try and get people together, like your sister and Fenris."

Carver choked on his ale. "My sister and _Fenris_?" he sputtered.

"Wait you didn't know?" Alistair asked him in shock. "But you're always glaring at him! I thought you knew!"

"No, I did not know about _my sister and Fenris_ ," the noise that came out of Carver's throat when he said Fenris' name was most definitely not healthy. "I glare at him because he is a mage hating arse and my sister is a mage."

"Oh." Alistair said. "I should go."

With that he turned and practically sprinted for the door, pointedly ignoring Carver's calls to tell him to get back here and explain right now, dammit.

***

When Hawke and Varric returned from the deep roads, they were rich. Hawke managed to buy back her old Amell estate with the treasure they found. Varric and Isabela, despite getting cuts of the profit, seemed to think practically living in the Hanged Man in the slums of Lowtown had much more appeal, Maker knew why. Fenris, of course, chose to remain in his desolated mansion in Hightown, that was falling apart and decaying. He insisted that the dead bodies in the front entryway added character. Alistair decided not to question it.

Something had changed between Hawke and Fenris over the expedition, something Carver was extremely unhappy about. And if Alistair had thought Carver had been glaring at Fenris before, it was nothing compared to what he was like around the elf now. Hawke and Fenris, however, seemed to merely ignore him, looking relaxed and, in Fenris' case, not quite so uncomfortable and scared.

Carver told Hawke about his decision to become a Grey Warden and Alistair had been briefly worried about flying fireballs when he caught the glare Hawke threw in his direction. But when she learned that Alistair had talked Carver down from being a templar, the relief had outweighed her worry for her brother and she forgave him. After weeks of arguments and tension between the two siblings, Hawke relented and allowed Carver to join the Grey Wardens, with the assurance that he would still come to Kirkwall regularly. Alistair and Anders contacted nearby groups that would be willing to draft a recruit, and Hawke looked like she was about to cry for an entire two weeks before Carver sent a letter telling her he was alive and had survived the Joining.

Alistair met Sebastian at one point during what he called the "Year After", which was basically the year of peace before things somehow went haywire again. The man was both as stubborn as a rooted tree and absolutely terrible at making fun of himself and Alistair, personally, found it hilarious. He found himself going around to the Chantry again and again, just to knock about with Sebastian, call him stuck up, and ruffle his hair. He thinks it might have to do with the prissy Starkhaven "prince" being like the little brother he'd never had.

And this constant needling of Sebastian was how he came to meet Grand Cleric Elthina. A gentle woman, who seemed to hold much wisdom in her old eyes, and reminded him quite uncomfortably of Wynne.

He had been annoying Sebastian for the second time that week with inane questions. "So, Seb, bed, wed, behead, Hawke, Merrill, Isabela. Go!"

"Alistair, as I have told you multiple times, I am a Chantry Brother and I would not break my vows and take a woman as my bride. As I have also told you multiple times, even if I were not a Brother, I don't particularly feel inclined to have sex."

"Yeah, of course, but this is all hypothetical. Unless, you're planning on actually marrying one of them. You wouldn't spring that on me would you?" he widened his eyes at Sebastian in shock. "Please tell me you aren't secretly married to Isabela!"

"No, I'm not, Alistair, shut up!" Sebastian said hotly, his cheeks flushing.

"Then, hypothetically." Sebastian huffed. "Come on," Alistair pushed. "Humor me, here. Unless... would you prefer I give you men to choose from?"

"No, Maker..." Sebastian ran a tired hand down his face. "Fine, if it will get you to shut up, then, wed Hawke, bed Isabela, behead Merrill."

"Behead Merrill?" Alistair gasped. "That's just cruel, Prince, it really is."

"I'll behead you, you little -" Sebastian was abruptly cut off by the clearing of a throat behind him. He froze and Alistair peered to see an stern old woman standing behind him.

"Grand Cleric Elthina," Sebastian sighed, tired.

"Sebastian," the woman said in a slightly amused sounding voice. "Would you and your... friend be kind enough to not make so much noise within the Chantry walls?"

"The name's Alistair." Alistair piped up and was awarded with slightly raised eyebrows and a small smile.

"We're leaving," Sebastian said, practically dragging Alistair behind him as he walked out.

"It was nice to meet you, Grand Cleric!" Alistair called behind him as he was pulled away.

"You as well, Alistair. Goodbye." Elthina said gently.

***

And so Alistair cherished his peace, his slightly growing happiness for as long as it lasted. Not to say that he was upset about what happened next, but it was hardly the most peaceful thing to experience.

They were playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man, as they did pretty much all the time. Really, Alistair thought to himself, they needed to find more hobbies than just drinking, card games, and killing things. And no, Aveline's suggestion for a knitting club was not what he was looking for. Isabela looked oddly excited at the thought though.

Alistair had actually convinced Sebastian to show up this time, but he was taking forever to meet up with them. He had whined about the Hanged Man, of course, but around Sebastian, whining was always the default and must be worked around.

Varric had just won five silvers from him in an astounding bluff when Alistair finally heard Sebastian sit down in the seat beside him.

"Hey, you made it!" Alistair said, patting the man heartily on the back.

Sebastian gulped. "Please, don't hate me. I had to. They're both scary."

"What?" Alistair asked him, but froze suddenly when he heard the clearing of a throat behind him. An incredibly familiar clearing of a throat. "Oh." he said.

"Alistair Theirin. You better have a really good explanation for this."

Alistair closed his eyes tightly and did not turn around. Really, the fact that he could not disintegrate into thin air and blow away was incredibly unfair and Alistair personally held the universe accountable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's done. It's not really a secret who arrives in Kirkwall but y'all can guess until Styx comes out with the next chapter haha. Well, I say y'all but really is anyone reading this except us and that one anon (SHOUTOUT TO YOU. I SMILED PRETTY MUCH ALL DAY). Also, we may be also starting a side story of a prequel with the two Wardens and their journey while defeating the blight. I'm writing the first chapter right now and honestly, these headcanons have gone too far. -R
> 
> ****
> 
> Seriously though, I can't believe it's over! Let's just say the first chapter of the sequel will be up soon. I'm in the middle of moving to university though, so if it's not up today (July 16) then it might not be up for a while, so bear with me! And also a HUGE shout out to that one anon, seriously that comment made us so happy, you have no idea. I'm still not a hundred percent sure how this series happened, but I'm pretty proud of it! -Styx


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